Page 31 of Ms. Fortune

I raise an eyebrow at her but don't interrupt. How could I not know Sophie knew Victor? But then, why would I know that? It had nothing to do with anything. At least, I thought it didn't. I have a feeling that's about to be disproven.

“Normandy's mother was a dancer at my club for several years until she met Victor. Once she met him, she was so smitten, and he was so protective of her that it wasn't long before she quit, and the two of them were married. And the next thing I know, Normandy came along.”

“That doesn't sound too bad.”

“No, that wasn't bad at all. I was very happy for Joan and for Victor. They both deserved happiness. And they were both so in love with each other. But, with that love, Victor overextended himself and made some bad business decisions, let's say, to put it nicely. Though it was much more than that.”

“I have since learned of Victor's possible…connections to some nefarious people. Is that what you're referring to?”

She looks a little surprised I would know anything about that part of Victor's life, but I shrug a little, indicating to her it's kind of what I do; learning about people. She nods and goes on.

“In his effort to make Joan happy, he was so blind with love for her and for Normandy…It started with loans, and then instead of robbing Peter to pay Paul, he ended up paying Peter to protect him from Paul.”

“Louie Calnetta is Peter in this situation, isn't he?”

“I think so. I never got involved with names. He and Joan were careful not to get anyone else mixed up with their troubles, but there were always grumblings on the grapevine here in Vegas. It got to the point where Joan was threatened and kidnapped for a short time, which was her last straw. She wasn’t hurt or anything, and it was brief, but when she was released, she immediately filed for divorce and moved herself and Normandy to North Las Vegas. Not entirely out of harm's way, but close enough so Victor could still see his daughter and vice versa. Where it was relatively safe.

Victor tried to find love a couple more times after that. But I don't think he ever got over Joan. None of those women were from my club, though. And I know for a fact the money he paid was to continue to protect Joan and Normandy.”

The last part grabs my attention. “With Victor gone now, does that mean Normandy and her mother are back in danger?” I remember Normandy telling me about the incident with Calnetta the day of the funeral, and something in my spine tingles sharply. This information is not what I wanted to hear tonight.

Sophie glances down at her mug, twisting it on the countertop nervously. “That I don't know, Brandon. I wish I did.” She raises her eyes to meet mine, and a sense of deep sadness in them hurts to see. “You're a good man, Brandon. I wanted you to know what you were getting involved with in Normandy. Like I said, I don't think she's aware of any of this, but you should be.”

Is Sophie trying to warn me off of Normandy? Or is she trying to get me to help out with the situation? I can't tell by the sadness in her eyes. Maybe it's both, and she's sad the problem exists.

“So, do you have any advice for someone who might want to be involved with Normandy?”

Remarkably, the sadness in her eyes deepens further, and my hands holding the hot mug of tea, suddenly go ice cold.

“I can't tell you what to do, Brandon. Lord knows, even if I tried, you wouldn't listen.” That makes me chuckle, but I nod for her to continue. “My only advice is to be careful. Your money and security can only go so far, and you're only one man. If you were to pursue Normandy, you'll need to be ten different men.” She tilts her head, questioning if I understand.

“I get it, Sophie. Thank you for letting me know.”

She nods and stands, going to clean her mug. After she dries it and puts it away, she gives me a weak smile before leaving, not saying anything else. Leaving me with my thoughts, the silence, and the loneliness I've become comfortable with. Well, it was comfortable until today. Now it’s more like isolation.

Chapter 22

20,000 SECONDS

NORMANDY

Throughout the following week, I try to keep myself busy, so I don't have to think about Brandon. It gets harder each day instead of easier, and I don't know how that's even possible. While I don’t regret how things ended between us at the gala, I also can’t stop thinking about what an incredible connection we had, both physically and mentally. Thoughts of his hands on me pop up unbidden without warning when I least expect it, and it’s taking more and more effort to push those thoughts away.

The tabloids have caught on to the fact that we’ve not been together since the gala, and the rumor mill is churning with gossip about what could have happened between us. According to one website, our twins are deathly ill, and Brandon’s now a deadbeat dad. That at least makes me smile. I’ve avoided answering questions since I don’t go anywhere but work, and the press only yells at me through the car windows.

Brandon’s company had its annual meeting, and the last I saw, he’s gone back to his life in New York. Our plan worked, and his reputation is back on the plus side, and business at Mischief Motors is on the rise too. It was a win-win after all. I try my best not to pay attention to the internet, but it’s really damned hard.

To further distract myself, I take time on the weekend to start going through my father's things to clear them out. I’ve put it off long enough and have given up on waiting for Chelsie to help me with it. Whenever I bring it up, she finds an excuse to avoid it. So, lucky me gets to handle something else entirely on my own. No problem.

While going through his files at his home office, I come across a plain white envelope with my name on it. I don't know how long this envelope has been here, but it’s yellowed around the edges with age. I hold it for a moment before opening it, anxiety taking over, and I search the folder I found it in to check if there is one for Chelsie, but there isn't. I pace the room for a minute staring at the envelope and my father's crooked handwriting. Finally, I give in and open it, my fingers shaking and the paper tearing roughly. Inside is a letter written with choppy writing that can't be anybody else's but my dad's.

Dear Normandy,

If you are reading this, I am no longer of this world and have moved on to the next. That sounds ominous, huh? I hope I went quickly and painlessly because you know what a wuss your father is.

If you haven't already, you're about to find out some things about your dad that aren’t great, and I'm sorry for that.

Just know that I loved you and your mother with everything I have. Or had, I guess. The things you're going to learn about me will probably be hard for you to understand, and that includes Chelsie too.

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